


Tricky Footing

by Omorka



Category: Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across The 8th Dimension (1984)
Genre: Gen, Non-Graphic Violence, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-02
Updated: 2010-05-02
Packaged: 2017-10-09 06:43:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/84174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Omorka/pseuds/Omorka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Cavaliers get the call to extract Buckaroo from another sticky situation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tricky Footing

**Author's Note:**

> Largely an excuse to slip in references to other fandoms. Originally written for the prompt "a cliff," for Story_Lottery over on LJ.

"You've got to be kidding me," Reno groaned, and handed the phone to Penny.

She nestled the receiver under her ear. "Sorry, Buck, you're gonna have to repeat that for the benefit of everyone else," she said, glaring at Reno and jabbing the button to change to speakerphone.

"Well, there's good news and bad news, actually," Banzai's voice crackled over the connection, half-swamped by static. The go-phone's wireless network was obviously strained; Buckaroo must be some distance away from an urban center. Penny wondered how he'd gotten that far from Princeton that quickly; it had only been an hour since he'd left the conference.

"Good news first?" she asked, reaching for one of the many pads of paper scattered near the phone's side table. Four pads, and no pens; New Jersey saw her looking and handed her a ballpoint from his pocket. She nodded her gratitude and tested it against the page.

"The good news is, I've located one of the World Crime League operatives. A small-timer, probably reports to Lo Pep rather than Hanoi Xan, or potentially one of the intermediate lieutenants. He's been skimming discoveries, maybe even prototypes, from the High Energy Particles lab at Princeton, and probably Harvard, Yale, and MIT as well."

"Dang." That was New Jersey, behind her now. "What has he gotten out with?"

"We're not sure. We know the primary HEP lab he's been burgling has been working on the rotating black hole problem."

"Wormholes," breathed Perfect Tommy. "But those are only useful for interplanetary or even interstellar travel. Unless Xan was out to conquer Mars - "

"Or Planet Ten," Penny offered.

There was a sharp intake of breath from Tommy and a pause on the other end of the line. "Entirely possible," Banzai's voice said. "It had occurred to me that they have extraordinary technology Xan would love to get his hands on, and they were conquered by a relatively small band of Red Lectroid warriors."

"He'd need a ship, too," protested Reno.

"Did Whorfin leave an extra? A backup, maybe?" The idea terrified Penny - she'd suffered enough at the Lectroids' hands to still get the shakes at the sight of their alien biotechnology.

"We'll have to find out." A surge of static wiped out the start of Buckaroo's next sentence. " - possible that he's interested in creating black holes to use as a doomsday weapon here on Earth instead. That's why we need to capture the operative alive, and find out exactly what he's taken."

New Jersey shifted his jaw thoughtfully. "So, what's the bad news?"

"I need you to come out here and pick me up." Buckaroo sounded vaguely embarrassed.

"No problem. Where are you?" Penny asked, pen at the ready.

"Halfway down a sheer cliff face. Somewhere in Maine," Buck admitted. The static behind him suddenly resolved into the roar of the ocean.

"Crud, he wasn't kidding," Reno grumbled into one hand.

\---

"I'm still not sure how he's supposed to have gotten out here," Pinky said, turned around in his seat. The van rocked as they took another turn around the rocky outcroppings that decorated the long slope to the seashore.

"We'll work that out once we get him back," Perfect Tommy said, checking his handgun and the backpack full of nylon ropes for the fifth time. Reno nodded grumpily and kept driving.

New Jersey looked over the map he was failing to fold back up. "Looks like the local name for the spot we're heading towards is the Cliffs of Insanity."

"That's the dumbest name I've ever heard," marveled Reno, as Tommy and Pinky muttered their agreement.

"It's because there's an optical illusion effect from the mist kicked up from the rocks on the shore," New Jersey continued. "They look like they're farther away than they are, so people keep running aground on the base or even colliding with the cliffs themselves."

Perfect Tommy straightened the ropes again and nodded grimly. "So we're not taking the approach by sea. What's the best way to get there, then?"

"There's no public beach, due to the shipwreck hazard. The only over-land approach goes through a county park." New Jersey traced a path on the half-folded map with one finger. "We'll have to take most of the ascent on foot."

"And then rappel down the cliff face to get Buckaroo." Perfect Tommy picked up a second knapsack; it clinked. "I can't believe he climbed halfway up the cliff without equipment."

"That's our boss." Pinky pointed out the windshield. "There, that's the turnoff for the park."

After winding their way through a pleasantly wooded area studded with barbecue grills, they piled out next to a picnic table with flaking green paint, which Tommy immediately covered with a mix of rock-climbing gear and electronic tracing equipment. New Jersey checked the map once more, and then slung a handgun at his belt and a black bag over his shoulder. Reno shrugged; the irony of a doctor carrying a gun still pricked something in his stomach, even though he'd watched Buckaroo do it for years.

"That's him. Let's go," Perfect Tommy announced, pointing at a blinking green light on one of his screens and strapping backpacks over both shoulders. He led the way between scrubby trees and tufts of tall seagrass.

The first shot rang out as soon as they'd cleared the tree-line. Reno dodged left, Perfect Tommy went right, New Jersey hit the deck, and Pinky did a fast roll and returned fire. Tommy hissed, "Stop it! The boss wants him alive!" between his teeth, and Pinky crawled to the cover of a large boulder, scrubbed clean by sand and sea breezes.

"Did you get a good look?" Pinky whispered into his radio.

"Medium height, male, possibly Hispanic or Italian," New Jersey answered in a voice so quiet the radio barely picked it up. "Didn't see his face, though."

"Think we'll have to rush him?" Pinky asked, fidgeting behind his rock.

New Jersey didn't answer; he drew his revolver and fired a warning shot, wide to the left. A head popped up behind another boulder, barely five yards from the edge of the cliff ahead of them, then dropped back again.

"Looks like he's willing to wait it out," Pinky observed.

"He hasn't got much choice, unless he's got a rope already in place," Reno pointed out. "The top of this thing is basically a long, narrow triangle. We've got him blocked in."

A bizarre grating noise overwhelmed the sound of the ocean below them, accompanied by a bluish light that flashed and faded behind the other rock.

"Sounds like a '57 Chevy stripping its gears," Reno noted.

New Jersey fired a second time and then abruptly stood up.

Pinky gaped. "What are you doing, man, you crazy or what?"

"Or what," New Jersey said over his shoulder as he ran a zig-zag path towards the noise. Another shot came from behind the rock and missed, sending up shards from the stones at his feet.

A blur of white shot from a rock that seemed too small to have hidden it, and the grating noise stopped abruptly, replaced by shouting. New Jersey ducked around the boulder just as Reno realized he'd been creating a distraction. "Come on," he called to Pinky, and followed after them, not bothering to run broken field.

They got there just in time to see Perfect Tommy kick the criminal's gun over the cliff face. Reno pinned the guy's legs; Tommy already had his head in a lock. New Jersey darted between them and slid a hypodermic needle into the miscreant's struggling arm. Pinky sidled around the fracas, eyes scanning the surrounding landscape.

"So what the hell is that thing?" New Jersey asked casually, nudging what looked like a blue metal toolbox covered with dials.

"I'm guessing it's what this guy pulled from the MIT lab - doesn't look like Stanford's style," Perfect Tommy replied. "Not sure what it does yet."

"He'll tell us when he wakes up," Reno noted as the thief's head lolled back.

"Teleporter," said Pinky, staring off the edge of the cliff towards the crashing surf.

"How do you figure? Just because he was activating it when he was trying to get away?" Perfect Tommy uncoiled one of the ropes from the left knapsack and secured their opponent's ankles.

Ignoring him, Pinky leaned further over the cliff edge and waved. Reno's head snapped up; he jogged the remaining twenty feet to join him and looked cautiously over.

Perched in full lotus position on a ledge barely large enough to stand on, halfway between them and the pounding surf, Buckaroo waved serenely back.

\---

"What I don't understand," Pinky stated to the room at large, "is why he zapped you to a cliff face in Maine instead of one of the World Crime League satellite stations. I mean, he didn't even have any backup."

"Because he'd never been to one of their hidey-holes," Perfect Tommy guessed.

"Pretty much." New Jersey pried off his cowboy boots and dug his toes into the carpet. After consulting with Headquarters, they'd rented a hotel suite for the night rather than trying to drive all the way back. Depositing their quarry with the local police had taken most of the evening. "Near as I can tell, the teleporter can only take you to someplace you can visualize in detail. He grew up here, used to surf off of the less jagged parts of the coast."

"A sea rescue is practically impossible because of the refractory illusion from the mist. Any speedboat trying to pick me up would run aground, probably violently, before anyone could climb up. He thought if he stranded me there, eventually I'd fall off the ledge," Banzai added, rubbing his hair vigorously with a towel; he'd been thoroughly soaked with salt spray by the time Perfect Tommy had arrived. "And that's probably true; it was just taking longer than he thought."

An image of Banzai sitting zazen on that tiny ledge for hours flashed through Reno's mind; he grinned - that was his boss, all right.

"But why didn't he just shoot you?" Pinky shook his head slowly. "I mean, if he was trying to kill you anyway."

"He may have been trying to find out how much Xan would pay for me, and whether dead or alive mattered," Buckaroo suggested.

Tommy ran one hand over the awkwardly-shaped box. "So, what do we do with this?"

"We return it to Dr. Brown and Dr. Beckett, of course," Banzai said mildly.

Perfect Tommy sighed. Reno and New Jersey exchanged a glance over his head; Reno shrugged, spreading his hands as if to say _I don't get it, either_.

One corner of Buck's mouth curled just slightly. "But while we have it, we might as well see what's inside."

"Let me know if I need to put up radiation shields." Pinky flopped back onto the bed.

"Think I'll join you," New Jersey added quietly as the scientists cleared the room's one table.

Pinky nodded. "I mean, someone has to call Headquarters if they blow themselves up."

"And explain to the hotel management," New Jersey said, looking at the ceiling.

"And drive the van back home." Pinky tugged his hat over his face and closed his eyes. "After a long day of getting shot at, I could use a nap."

"Right with you." New Jersey slipped his Stetson down to match.

Reno rolled his eyes and turned out the lamp as Buckaroo and Perfect Tommy discussed the finer points of turning space-time into a pretzel. "I'll keep an eye on them. Sleep tight, guys."

"Sleep light is more like it, in this outfit," Pinky grumbled, but in a few minutes he was snoring.


End file.
